


And Then There Were Two

by sohvia



Series: Énouement [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, Silly sexy Times, a duck because there needs to be a duck in this story, lots of kisses because these two adore each other, no pining anymore, so little volleyball it is only mentioned once or twice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohvia/pseuds/sohvia
Summary: Oikawa and Sugawara have just moved to a new city, far away from everything they've known and held familiar for years, most importantly, their friends.They open the door to their new home, excited about all the possibilities the new place, their future together, holds.But once the door closes, and it's quiet inside, they notice the silence.It's new, and different, and very disorienting.This is the story of their first days in their new home, away from their friends, how they get lost in the streets only a block away from their new home and accidentally end up adopting a duck.Also, the dreaded Totoro hat makes a return, to Oikawa's dismay. And reluctant amusement.There is a dangerous game of Twister, because naked and horny don't mix well with it.And Suga and Oikawa are so in love you will need a trip to the dentist after all the sweet fluff.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi
Series: Énouement [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954369
Comments: 21
Kudos: 101





	And Then There Were Two

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of what I call "Yugen 2.0" and the first part of a series of domestic OiSuga.  
> This is just Suga and Oikawa in love, with minimal interruptions from any other characters, although a couple of them make a quick appearance.  
> (If you've read my fic "Yugen" you probably know what that means)  
> (If you haven't read "Yugen", don't worry. You don't need to read it first. You really DON'T. Seriously, don't worry about being out of loop if you don't read it. But, if you want to torture yourself with seven books worth of reading, have fun) 
> 
> This isn't completely written in order, so if it seems like Oikawa uses crutches in one scene and not in the next, it's because the story isn't told in chronological order. 
> 
> Lastly, I'd like to remind that English isn't my first language and I hope you'll forgive me for the possible mistakes.

“Welcome to our new home,” Suga cheered softly as he opened the front door with one hand, balancing the box he was carrying over his knee.

Oikawa had thought that Suga would come up with something more original for the first words to say as they arrived, but it was nice enough what he said and would have to do.

“We’re definitely getting a duck.”

Suga’s addition brought a smile on Oikawa’s face. He fondly thought, _there it is,_ as he followed his boyfriend inside, carrying a moving box as well.

Their new home. A place they owned.

That was so grown up!

Oikawa was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that it was a house. An actual house consisting of two floors, stairs that Oikawa would not be able to use for a few months after his looming knee surgery, a couple of rooms that neither he or Suga had any idea what to do with, and a yard.

“A duck?” he had to ask, for Suga’s reasons for wanting a live duck for a pet weren’t exactly known to him. He had an inkling, obviously. They already had two stuffed toy ducks that Suga had named Hip-Pip (short for Hiplito Il Piplit) and Shizzle Shazzle.

Do not ask Oikawa where the names came from. He had no idea. And to be completely honest, he was a little afraid to find out and therefore was reluctant to ask Suga.

But, for whatever reason, Suga had developed a liking to all ducks, live or inanimate, and it was endlessly endearing to Oikawa to witness Suga become more excited when he talked about the water birds.

Suga liked ducks. It was a universally known fact. Where the love for the water birds came from? Oikawa didn’t know that either. But then again, maybe some things were better to, and meant to, be left a mystery.

“Yes,” Suga affirmed with such seriousness Oikawa wasn’t prepared for and a surprised chuckle escaped from him as he followed Suga through the small hall to the empty living room and through it to the kitchen. “And we’re naming it Mosura.”

Apparently Suga didn’t just have an affinity to ducks but to weird names too.

Oikawa’s desire to laugh died there and then due to confusion. _“Mosura?”_ He knew that name from somewhere… Where had he heard that before… He scratched his head in thought when he put the box down on the floor, one of many that were still to be carried inside. “Where have I heard that before?” He straightened up to look at Suga.

“Don’t know,” Suga shrugged, far too nonchalantly to be believable.

The gesture, and the casualness of it _while_ Suga avoided looking at him made Oikawa suspicious. He narrowed his eyes to show rather than tell that he wasn’t buying what Suga was trying to sell.

“We’re not getting a duck, Suga,” he said, letting his brain mull on the name in the background. It would come to him eventually.

“At least pretend to think about it,” Suga grinned, lightly slapping the back of his hand to Oikawa’s arm when they went outside again to bring more boxes in.

“Hm,” Oikawa pretended _to think about it,_ calling on all his acting skills to appear pensive for a second. “No ducks.”

Suga turned around to deliver another light slap to his arm, but it only made Oikawa’s poker face crack and a bubble of laughter escape. He shielded his eyes from the bright sun shining through the smog as he waited to pick up a box after Suga. The weather was decent, a lovely sunny day of spring, the perfect kind of day to not do anything. And here they were, spending it with heavy carrying.

“How about a penguin, then?” Suga suggested as he set the box he’d been carrying down in the kitchen again.

Oikawa straightened from his grouch, where he’d deposited his much lighter box, and finger-combed the hairs that had escaped his ponytail behind his ear. “No penguins either.”

“Why not?”

“Why would you want a penguin?” Oikawa shot back, a little more than just a bit befuddled on why anyone would want to keep a penguin as a pet. Dogs and cats, those he understood. But penguins?

“It’s a _penguin,”_ Suga stressed, leading the way back outside. “Who wouldn’t want one?” he asked, gesturing like he was asking from a non-existent audience, while one of the movers helping them out, busy with balancing the weight of their couch, chuckled in passing.

“Me,” Oikawa deadpanned, feeling the urge to stick his hand in the air to make it more obvious who said it.

Suga glanced at him over his shoulder, smiling faintly with mischief. “I’ll change your mind about that.”

“We already have a quasi-pet,” Oikawa reminded him, stopping for a moment to lean on the side of the truck, giving his bum knee a little break. “And who is going to take care of the penguin when we travel?” He tilted his head to the side, the strands of hair he’d combed back a moment ago escaping again, as he asked the very reasonable question from Suga.

“We’ll bring the penguin with us, of course,” Suga answered, unperturbed by the hypothetical obstacle in the way of them having a pet penguin.

Oikawa wondered if he should be concerned by how much Suga had already thought about this.

“Don’t tell me you have a name for the penguin as well,” he sighed, heaving a little under the weight of the box he picked up.

Suga instantly extracted the box from his hands, as he’d done every time they’d made a run to the truck, pointing to the sack of pillows for him instead. “Silo. Or Roy.”

Oikawa sighed as the heavy carrying was getting lighter and lighter for him with every trip for more boxes to bring inside. After the discussion they’d already had in the car on the way to their new home about carrying their stuff from the truck, after Suga wore him down by being unusually headstrong but characteristically caring, he’d decided not to say anything about it the unfairness of giving him the lighter load. He knew Suga was just looking out for him out of love and it would be pointless to try and fight him on it. They’d just both end up upset and if there was a way to avoid that, it was worth swallowing his insistence on equal amount of work. If their roles were reversed, he would do the same.

“No penguins,” Oikawa persisted, hefting the sack over his shoulder. 

“Just because of the name?”

“Because it’s a penguin,” Oikawa wanted to roll his eyes on Suga’s adamance about having a pet penguin. “You bring a penguin into this house, I’m gone.” He was being facetious. He’d never leave Suga just because one day he’d bring a penguin into their house, but exaggerating hadn’t hurt them before and Oikawa knew that his dramatics would just be met with an eye roll from Suga.

And Suga proved him right about that. “Don’t be silly,” he chuckled, “I’ll wear you down.”

Oikawa didn’t like how sure Suga sounded about that, or how he had to silently agree that Suga would most likely be successful.

Suga grinned as if he knew as much and was counting on it.

“No penguins,” Oikawa still repeated, as if it would make a change, even though he already sounded just a little closer to giving up on resisting. He dropped the pillows onto the couch to be sorted later. “Isn’t it enough that we already live with a Martian and Kumamon?” He asked in a slightly raised voice to be heard in the next room, his words echoing in the empty house.

“They could always have use for a friend to keep them company when we’re out of the house,” Suga replied, appearing from the kitchen and joining him in the living room with the lonely couch, not at all discouraged by Oikawa’s counterpoint. “But I promise there won’t be any more pets inside the house until you genuinely want one,” he softened his tone, his hand coming to rest on Oikawa’s cheek, smile kind and understanding and easy to trust.

Oikawa was reassured and leaned down to kiss Suga on the lips, chaste in consideration that they weren’t alone, even with his hands on Suga’s waist. “Thank you.”

“Now, let’s bring Kumamon in and show them around their new home.”

“Is it going to live on our couch again?” Oikawa asked after Suga, who was already basically skipping towards the truck.

“Where else would it live?” he heard Suga’s faint shout from the outside.

With a fond shake of his head, Oikawa made to follow Suga outside, a strategy he’d made the very first time he’d followed Suga into the house and had noticed the way Suga’s pants were hugging his ass.

Yes, he had the hots for his boyfriend. What was wrong with that? Nothing? Good.

“Somewhere where it won’t be in the way,” he suggested, leaning his shoulder to the doorframe as he watched Suga carry the giant mascot, struggling a little because of the size of the enormous stuffed toy. He stepped aside briefly to let the movers in with a desk before he resumed his lean to block Suga from entering.

It remained a mystery to them how anyone could’ve taken Kumamon from their Tokyo apartment without no one noticing the kidnapping during an infamous party that had destroyed their old couch, which had led to an Ikea trip, which had been an eye-opener to Oikawa about his boyfriend’s true strangeness and made him fall for him even more, if that was even possible at that point anymore. Talk about Murphy’s law.

Even a more puzzling mystery was how Kumamon was returned to their apartment without them seeing a thing. Just appearing out of nowhere. Just sitting on their couch like it had never been gone.

To know the adventures Kumamon had had during its absence…

“Don’t worry, Kumamon,” Suga soothed the colossal stuffed mascot. “You’re not in the way.” He then looked up to Oikawa, where he was blocking the entrance. “But you are.”

Biting back a smile Oikawa moved aside, letting Suga pass through and followed him to the living room where the gigantic mascot was placed on the couch as if it was its throne.

“There,” Suga announced, patting the thing’s head. “Doesn’t he look comfy there?”

“I bet he’d be comfier in the room upstairs. There’s the big window that overlooks to the river too. I bet he’d like the view.”

Suga gave him a very unimpressed look. “Do you want to sleep on the couch?”

“You can’t kick me on the couch!” Oikawa protested.

“Then I don’t see why Kumamon can’t sleep on it,” Suga said, as if that was what decided it.

Oikawa was powerless to object any longer, absolutely helpless when Suga paused to give him a sweet, lingering kiss as he passed by him on his way outside.

“By the way, we need to go to the Ikea tomorrow.”

“No, we don’t,” Oikawa reflexively opposed to that idea. He was still traumatized. He had had fun watching Suga have the time of his life in the store by scaring the other customers and the staff alike, but he was still traumatized. He stared out the window in the living room, unseeing the jungle of a yard outside, as he relived the experience.

“The bedframe?” one of the movers asked as they entered carrying the furniture, interrupting Oikawa’s reluctantly fond trip down the memory lane.

“This room here,” Oikawa showed them to the bedroom downstairs that was going to be theirs until Oikawa’s knees were healed enough for him to survive walking without crutches, when they’d move it upstairs to the bigger room with the gorgeous view of the water.

They had taken Oikawa’s surgeries into account as they looked for a new place in Kyoto, when they made their decision on buying this house. Oikawa was secretly excited that the bathroom with the big shower and bath was downstairs, even though they wouldn’t be able to use it for sex – another feature they’d focused on as they apartment hunted – until he was healed.

“We need patio furniture,” Suga continued what Oikawa assumed was the Ikea conversation when he returned with another box, passing through the living room again to drop off more dishes in the kitchen.

“There are other places to find patio furniture too,” Oikawa reasoned, dethroning Kumamon and moving it to the floor in the corner of the living room. He needed a place to sit, the heavy carrying starting to bother him sooner than he’d forethought it would.

“But they’re not Ikea,” Suga said, coming back, to a full stop when his eyes landed on the corner that Kumamon had been banished to.

Oikawa smirked in anticipation.

“Why is Kumamon on the floor?” Suga demanded, his tone menacing, like Oikawa had committed a crime by depositing Kumamon onto the floor.

Oikawa’s smirk grew. “Because your boyfriend needed a place to sit.”

Suga rolled his eyes, his serious expression shifting into an easy smile. Apparently, the crime wasn’t as serious as his first reaction would’ve suggested. He shuffled over to the couch, taking a seat next to Oikawa, their sides pressed together as he took Oikawa’s hand into his and bringing them to his lap.

“How are you feeling?” Suga asked softly, playing with Oikawa’s fingers.

“Okay,” Oikawa sighed, briefly resting his head against Suga’s, straightening when he heard the movers clambering down the hall. Suga released his hand, but the warmth remained. “Just taking a small break. I’ll get up in a sec.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Suga comforted him, patting his thigh. “We hired the movers for a reason.” He offered a nod to one of them when the armchair was brought into the living room.

Oikawa waited for the guy to leave, his eyes following until he was out of sight and leaned towards Suga to give him a kiss, landing it to the corner of Suga’s lips. “Did you bring the cooler with the water bottles and snacks in yet?”

“No, it’s still in the truck? Do you need it? I can bring it in.” Suga was sliding his butt to the edge of their comfy couch. Oikawa stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

“No, I got it,” he assured, beating Suga in speed to pushing himself on his feet. “Just thirsty.”

“For water or for me?” Suga teased, poking Oikawa in the one secret spot that he’d accidentally discovered that tickled Oikawa.

Oikawa squirmed away from the offending finger, sprinting a couple of steps ahead to get away Suga’s reach, which was less than his arm’s reach and allowed him to retaliate. Suga swatted his hand away, laughing as they fell out of the open front door to the bright and warm sunshine.

They had a short race to the truck, Oikawa beating Suga and slamming his hand to the make-shift split-of-a-second-decision goal of the truck’s door first because of his longer arms, which Suga pointed out and Oikawa boobed his nose for.

Tilting his head back as he took a drink from the bottle, he gave another cursory look to the house, _their new home,_ and smiled. The outside of the house gave him vibes of the house in Totoro’s backyard and he had a sneaking suspicion that was one of the reasons why Suga wanted to buy the place. Oikawa didn’t mind, he liked the house too. It was beautiful and their neighborhood peaceful. The fence kept their yard hidden from the street, muffled the noise of motor vehicles driving past, gave the place the kind of privacy that Oikawa had only dreamed of in their apartment in Tokyo.

“Wouldn’t a penguin fit nicely here?” Suga whispered in his ear, wrapping arms snuggly from behind him and resting a chin on Oikawa’s shoulder.

Oikawa let out a derisive mix of a snort and a scoff. “No,” he answered forcefully.

Unperturbed, Suga continued, “A duck, then. Which we will call _Mosura.”_

Suga’s hands trailed over Oikawa’s stomach and waist and sides until the touch disappeared, the sensation of missing the contact flitting through Oikawa’s thoughts and craving it back.

“I know that name from somewhere.” He was certain of it. He cast a searching glance to Suga, pulling the hair tie keeping his hair up in the small ponytail off and retying it. “Where have I heard it before?”

“I have no idea,” Suga replied, a lot more convincingly than he had before, his hand wandering to Oikawa’s temple and pushing back the strands too short for the ponytail that the gentle spring wind flew out of order. “Come on, if we carry stuff in too we can be rid of the movers sooner.” 

And once again, Oikawa was given one of the lighter boxes (filled with desk lamps and twinkle lights) and followed Suga inside the house.

When everything was brought in, the movers gone and Suga and Oikawa exhausted, they ended the day in each other’s arms. Suga dug out his Bluetooth speaker, forced to open a few of the boxes before he found it, and put soft music on. He pulled Oikawa by his belt loops close and started swaying, guiding Oikawa into a slow dance in their new kitchen, the remains of their leftovers taking over the counter space.

Their bedtime was extended by caring kisses within thrilled laughter, warm touch of traveling hands over and under their clothes, the exhaustion of the long and laborious day making them silly and love for each other tender.

“Do you think our friends miss us already?”

“Yes,” Suga’s sleepy answer was pressed against Oikawa’s neck. “I think they do because I already miss them.”

Oikawa was glad he wasn’t the only one. “Mm,” he hummed in answer, tendrils of sleep pulling him under, intertwining his fingers through Suga’s where his hand was fiddling the hem of Oikawa’s shirt over his stomach.

“Why do I know the name _Mosura?”_ he asked for the last time _that day,_ the last thought in his head, along with the distant realization of how he felt on the back of his neck who Suga’s lips stretched into a smile.

Whatever that could mean, would reveal itself to him _much_ later. 

The next few days were spent from morning to evening emptying the boxes and finding a place for everything, painting the walls in a couple of rooms and fixing the sliding door to the balcony upstairs. The house was just a bit on the side of a fixer-upper, but they liked that about it. It gave them the chance to truly make it look like theirs. Turning the empty house into a home.

At the same time, Oikawa was working too, spending a good eight hours a day with the team he was coaching or with the management and assistant coaches to go over game plans and plays and practice times and the schedule of the upcoming season.

He didn’t like leaving Suga alone in their new home so soon after the move, but as his new job as the coach was the reason they had moved from Tokyo to Kyoto, Suga was more than understanding and practically pushed him out the front door in the mornings. Once he sacrificed he usual sleep-in-late to literally give Oikawa a shove outside when he was reluctant to leave.

“I’ll be here when you come home,” Suga promised with an easy smile, still in his pajamas and hair a mess, looking soft and inviting to kiss all over his face, and gave a sharp push to Oikawa’s back. “Go.”

“But –“ Oikawa protested as he stumbled.

“I will give you a blowjob when you come home if you leave right now,” Suga interrupted, his voice full of guarantee that it wasn’t an empty promise.

Oikawa had to steal one more kiss, taste of that smirk.

Oikawa was convinced that Suga was a devil and an angel at the same time. The way he pushed his tongue to his cheek and looked up from under his hooded lids gave Oikawa _thoughts_ that accompanied him all the way to the gym where he had to physically shake his head to rid himself of the dick hardening images and sounds that had been engraved into his brain from earlier oral acts Suga had given him. It’d be highly embarrassing to sport a noticeable chub in his pants through the practice, giving the wrong idea to the people he worked with.

One day, the torturous wait to return home was made worth it and then some.

Oikawa stopped in the middle of the doorway, his eyes laser-focused on the colorful mat on the floor of their living room. He spared a quick glance at Suga, in the middle of the furniture that were finding their places within the room and the boxes that were waiting emptying, and then back down to the mat that was spread in the space that Oikawa knew Suga had cleared by pushing the coffee table to the side.

“Is this the surprise you were talking about?” he alerted Suga to his presence, taking his bag off his shoulder and dropping it on the chair he bypassed on his way to give him a kiss, as was usual whenever one of them came home. “I have a feeling I’m really going to like it,” he flirted, smirking back at Suga who, now aware that he wasn’t alone anymore, put his phone away to be forgotten about.

“Welcome home,” Suga reached his hand out to Oikawa’s cheek, angling his head up for a kiss.

“Are we finally going to play Twister one on one?” Oikawa was too eager to ask to properly kiss Suga.

Suga chuckled under his breath, his smile bright, pulling Oikawa into a kiss anyway. Oikawa sighed into it, lingering, cherishing the affection that he’d craved for the whole day.

“Mm-hm,” Suga hummed his answer against Oikawa’s lips, hands trailing appreciatively over Oikawa’s chest and arms. “And naked.”

Oikawa didn’t need any convincing to play Twister with Suga. He was all for it, had to wait over a year to finally get to the game they’d agreed on _before_ they’d even started dating.

“I figured we’d play now. Take a break from all the furniture arranging for the night. Besides, otherwise, because of your knee surgery tomorrow, we would have to wait months for another chance.”

“You’re amazing,” Oikawa said, reverent.

Suga tilted his head to the side, adorable even with the smile-turned-into-a-smirk. “Get naked. I’m about to beat you in Twister.”

Oikawa offered a laugh in form of a scoff, his competitiveness flared, pulling his shirt off as fast as possible without pulling his shoulder out of it’s socket, combing the hair that the stripping disheveled from the small ponytail that held back most of his longish hair, behind his ear. “We’ll see about that.”

There was no way he would just let Suga win and he was certain that Suga wouldn’t just let him win either. He even suspected foul play from Suga, with good intentions of course, and was prepared to payback for any dirty tactics that might come to pass. “Hope you’ve prepared a gracious loser-face,” he taunted.

Suga’s following laughter was one of Oikawa’s favorite sounds in the world, right after the satisfying sound of an ace set of a volleyball slamming onto the court.

“You’re eager,” Suga commented.

“I’ve been waiting for this for over a year,” Oikawa reminded, saying it with the graveness that the statement required, stressing the importance of this very moment. “You need to strip too.” He looked Suga up and down, sultry, judging the clothes on Suga that were starting to offend him for existing.

“Let me help you first,” Suga whispered, voice huskier and tone lower than usual and bordering on flirty, his hands busy with opening Oikawa’s belt and slowly pulling it out the loops.

“Have you been practicing that move?” Oikawa asked, feeling a bit impressed, and undeniably turned on.

There was a possibility that they would not be finishing the game, would most likely end up having sex on the twister mat. He was glad that Suga had anticipated as much, the bottle of lube and a packet of condoms in arm’s reach on the low table.

“Among other things,” Suga admitted with a sensual grin.

Oikawa couldn’t keep himself back anymore, his grabby hands and hungry lips on Suga like he was starved, literally and in touch. He might’ve as well been for how much the move and getting settled in the new place was taking up their time and energy.

“I have an amazing view,” Suga admired the sight in front of him for free staring.

“You’re staring at my ass,” Oikawa chuckled, a bit flattered, feeling Suga’s gaze on his rear like a tantalizing shiver.

“It’s fantastic,” Suga complimented like it cost him nothing. “What’s your secret?”

Oikawa turned and tilted his head to be able to see Suga, looking between his arms and legs to see Suga openly gawk at his ass like it was something beautiful to truly behold. He snorted at Suga’s devoted expression, wondering what kind of sonnets Suga was writing for it in his head, if they were worth it to say out loud.

“I work out,” he deadpanned the _obvious_ answer. “Now get your mind out of the gutter. I have a game of twister to win.” He shifted in his position, taking some of the weight of his worse knee.

“Wouldn’t it make it easier for you to win if I was distracted?” Suga pointed out.

“Fair,” Oikawa acknowledged it, smirking over his shoulder when his next move turned him. “Do you want me to tell you all the things I’m going to do to you once I’ve won?” he asked with an arched eyebrow, sultry and suggestive.

“Yes,” Suga matched his smirk, the devil. “In excruciating detail, please.”

Oikawa squinted at Suga, calculating if the half-formed plan in his head was going to give him the win. He didn’t have the chance to come to a decision before his balance was swayed and he was tipped over and sprawled on the floor.

“I win!” Suga crowed, thrusting his hands in the air, while laying down on the floor just like very indignant Oikawa was.

“You cheated!” he protested Suga’s self-proclaimed win.

“How did I cheat?” Suga demanded, as if he was sincerely baffled by the accusation.

“You licked my dick!”

“And that’s cheating?”

“It is when you know it would bring me to my knees.”

The smirk was tantalizingly slow to grow on Suga’s lips, but undeniably victorious and tempting for Oikawa to kiss away. “But wasn’t it worth it,” Suga said, rolling over to his hands and knees and crawling closer to Oikawa, to hover over him, so close but so far.

Oikawa minimized the distance between them, impatient to wait for Suga to kiss him, by bringing Suga to him with a hand on the back of his neck.

“Do you think you could finish what you started?” he broke away from the demanding kiss, not letting Suga go far, their lips still brushing together with every word.

Suga pushed his next breath into Oikawa’s mouth with the kiss that felt too innocent for the moment, or for Suga’s reply, “Nothing would bring me more pleasure than licking your dick.”

There was a joke there somewhere, Oikawa was sure of it, but didn’t care to find it when he felt Suga move down along his body, pressing kisses on his way to Oikawa’s neck, chest, abdomen, to that one small spot that tickled Oikawa.

His abs contracted with a stifled laugh and Suga glanced up with a knowing smile.

He was gracious to spare Oikawa from further teasing by tickling, continuing on his way towards his main goal, standing hard already.

…

One day, they took a break from all the moving and fixing and bickering of where they were going to keep Kumamon, to take a walk outside, become familiar with the surrounding area.

The sun was shining, although going down and giving the sky a color that made Suga regret not grabbing the camera with him when they left. He had debated it with himself moments before stepping outside, had come to the decision that he would leave his work for another day, and left the camera on the kitchen counter. Oikawa had double-checked with him at the front door if he was sure he didn’t want to bring the camera, a smirk hidden in the gentle curl of his lips that he knew Suga was making the wrong decision.

He let out a sigh, masking it as an exhale, forcing his eyes away from the gorgeous colors in the horizon.

“Regretting not bringing your camera with you?” Oikawa asked.

Suga shot him a look, not surprised anymore that his boyfriend was able to read him so well. “Maybe a little. Do you have your phone on you?” Maybe he could use it to take a couple of photos to immortalize the different shades of orange bleeding into each other so beautifully.

Oikawa shook his head, his smile kind and understanding in a way that he only allowed Suga to see, and even that rarely. “Left it at home.” He snuck his hand into Suga’s. “Want to go back and grab your camera? We’re not far from home yet.”

“No, it’s okay,” Suga said, thinking of Oikawa’s knee and how he didn’t want him to put it under too much stress right before the surgery. “Let’s just find the store so we can buy food. I’m officially starving.” He swung their clasped hands between them gently, taking his next step closer to Oikawa to brush their shoulders together. “Then we can go back home and continue unpacking. I can’t believe how much stuff we’ve accumulated.”

“Or we could go back home and _not_ unpack,” Oikawa suggested, mostly kidding, but a part of him really considering it.

“And live out of the boxes?” Suga asked.

“Just a thought,” Oikawa shrugged, playfully nudging Suga’s shoulder with his, sort of. Mostly a little awkwardly because of their height difference, but it did make them laugh. “There isn’t much left to unpack anyway. We could call it a night with it for today.”

“Let’s see how we feel after we’ve eaten,” Suga came up with the solution, right as they arrived at the store.

A few minutes later, carrying their grocery store dinners, Oikawa came to a sudden stop, Suga stopping a couple of steps later when he noticed that his boyfriend wasn’t next to him anymore. “What is it?” he turned to ask, eyeing Oikawa with concern, alarmed that his knee was hurting.

But Oikawa was looking towards the way they’d come. “I think we missed a turn.”

Suga looked back to the intersection they’d passed, then down the street the way they’d been going, and back to the intersection. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t recognize the houses,” Oikawa motioned to them.

“Hmm,” Suga hummed, considering. He had spent more time wandering through the streets when Oikawa had been at work, and knew the area bit better, knew that they could turn at the next intersection and still find their way home. But, if Oikawa wanted to go back the fifty steps, Suga had nothing against it. “Okay, let’s go back.”

Taking the familiar turns and continuing down the familiar streets, Suga got the unsettling feeling that someone was watching him, a pinprick at the back of his neck.

He took a surreptitious, yet wary, glance around. Then bit back a grin.

“Tooru,” he whispered, his hand landing on Oikawa’s wrist to slow his pace. “Don’t look now, but I think we’re being followed.”

Oikawa was instantly alarmed. Someone was following them? That’s never good. Even if it was daytime, and they were only walking home from the closest seven-eleven.

“What?” he hissed, panic rising inside him. He resisted the urge to look behind them to confirm that a shady guy was following them home. They should take a detour or two to lose the stalker from their trail.

“Don’t worry,” Suga patted his wrist and let go. “I’m sure they won’t hurt us.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because it’s a duck.”

Oikawa swiveled around at Suga’s subtly gleeful revelation, and there really was a duck following them. His panic shriveled down to exasperation.

A duck. Following them. What the-? How?

“Have you been dropping breadcrumbs?” Oikawa eyed Suga and the road behind them suspiciously, while the duck kept waddling after them.

It reminded Oikawa of the way Princess Tutu Ahiru, a duck they fostered for a few weeks back in Tokyo, took a liking to Suga and used to follow him around the living room when Suga taught it to do so by dropping treats on the floor after him.

“I promise I haven’t,” Suga chuckled, turning 180 degrees and continuing backwards to keep an eye on the duck, looking happy that they had company walking them home. “It’s cute.”

“We’re not leading it home,” Oikawa said reasonably. There was a river close to their house, which partly could explain the randomness of the duck just wandering on the streets.

However, that was what happened. The duck followed them all the way to their new home, like a baby chick imprinted on its mother and following it around.

Suga was ecstatic, his happy grin wide and not showing any signs of waning.

Oikawa wasn’t as excited about it.

He tried to ignore the duck inspecting every little nook and cranny in their yard by focusing on the unpacking they continued once they had their bellies full, keeping his back turned to the window so he wouldn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of it.

“How do we still have boxes left?” Oikawa asked, repeating Suga’s earlier wonderment on it. It was unbelievable. They should’ve been more heavy-handed on throwing out or donating stuff when they were packing up their old apartment.

“Good question,” Suga hummed absent-mindedly, opening another box and letting out a delighted sounding “oh” that caught Oikawa’s attention.

“What?” he asked, redundantly, for the _“what”_ was placed on Suga’s head and a glaring, inescapable eyesore, the source of nightmares. He let out a disappointed sigh, Suga turning to look at him with innocent candidness.

“What’s wrong? Is your knee hurting?”

Oikawa was touched that Suga was so concerned over his health, and fighting the smile, he just shook his head. Taking a moment to school his expression, to look utterly letdown.

Then, after another sigh in the same disappointed vein, and, “I can’t believe you brought the cursed Totoro hat into this house.”

Suga’s brow furrowed, strangely softening the horrendousness of the hat. “Of course I brought it,” he said, like he couldn’t find any reason not to pack it with their stuff. “It’s family at this point.”

Oikawa raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Really?” his tone leaving no room for anything that wasn’t incredulousness.

“Obviously,” Suga grinned, tilting his head from side to side, the Totoro on the hat bouncing and swaying along with the movements. Trying to use its evil powers to hypnotize Oikawa with his eyes.

With a shiver running from his spine Oikawa shook his had to break the dark and mesmerizing eye contact.

“Please stop.”

Suga chuckled, so amused even his shoulders shook with it. “I’m still keeping it,” he said, like he was truly resolute on that, thankfully to Oikawa’s immense relief taking the hat off. “Kuroo is still going to get it as a birthday present when he turns thirty years old.”

“He’s going to disown you as his friend if you do that.”

Suga’s grin was borderline ferocious. “I’d like to see him try.” 

Oikawa got the sense that Suga really meant that. That Suga would even fight Kuroo if it came to that just to keep him as a friend.

For some decent human reason Oikawa didn’t think that violence was the best way to make friends, but this was Suga they were talking about and he was still to crack the mystery of how Suga and Asahi had become friends when they seemed so different. And now, after seeing the little dance with the Totoro hat, he suspected that hypnotizing might have something to do with it. Or, perhaps Suga had threatened Asahi with violence. It didn’t really sound like Suga, though, so… The mystery remained.

“You know,” Oikawa said conversationally, returning to his earlier task of emptying another box, “I don’t think that threatening people is the best way to make friends. Or hitting them under the disguise of forcing positivity in them.”

“It worked with you,” Suga replied _far too_ innocently.

“That doesn’t mean that it will work with everyone,” he guffawed. He was the outlier, one in a million.

“If they can’t take a little punch here and there I don’t think I want to be their friend anyway.”

Oikawa burst into laughter, surprising even himself with it, unknowing of where it came from.

“Why are you laughing?” Suga chuckled himself, as he used to do whenever Oikawa laughed. It just brought laughter out of him to hear laughing. It was cute.

“You’re just… Unbelievable,” Oikawa said once he sobered up, wistful.

Suga hummed, contemplating something, based on the look on his face as he looked at Oikawa, soft and smiling a bit.

Oikawa’s eyes strayed to the appalling accessory, brought back with the feel of Suga’s fingertips gliding under his jaw, turning his head back. His lips soft on the corner of Oikawa’s jaw.

Suga wanted more kisses, more touches, more affection, Oikawa could tell. He just couldn’t concentrate with the abomination lurking in the corner of his eye. 

“Can we hide the hat at least? Lock it up somewhere? I’ve seen too many horror movies with you to be naïve anymore about the evils in the world and I’m half-convinced that if we don’t keep the hat behind locks, we’re going to end up in a Chucky -situation.”

“I see it more like the hand in Addams family movies that moves around by its own will,” Suga mused.

And Oikawa could see that too, a shiver creeping up his back. “Please stop.”

Suga snickered, in Oikawa’s opinion far too evilly, throwing the hat into the bottom drawer. “There, hidden.” He smiled proudly at Oikawa.

Oikawa eyed the innocent looking, closed, drawer. “We need a lock on that.”

“It’s not going to crawl out of there to kill you in your sleep.”

“You don’t know that,” Oikawa flung his arms out.

“It’s a hat, Tooru,” Suga pressed. “Kumamon is more likely to kill you in your sleep. It at least has arms. And it’s big enough to just sit on you to suffocate you.”

“Stop talking,” Oikawa exclaimed. If he wasn’t thoroughly disturbed before, he was right now.

Suga kept snickering, as if it was an amusing way to pass the time to him to creep Oikawa out of his wits. Which it probably was.

“I won’t be able to sleep at all,” he muttered darkly, eyeing their bed and the distance from the drawer to it.

“Do we need to put a lock on our bedroom door as well?” Suga asked, his tone taking on a more sympathetic tone as he came up behind Oikawa to wrap his arms around him, chin gently resting on Oikawa’s shoulder, preceded by his lips pressing kisses along his jaw.

“If you’re convinced that Kumamon is murderous, then yes,” Oikawa pointed out. But, he was reassured from the months of Kumamon living on their couch in their old apartment too and not harming anyone. It was more likely that their friends had traumatized Kumamon – especially Iwaizumi and Daichi when they made up from their fight with handjobs in the living room when everyone else was out, except Kumamon who was right there to see everything – and Suga still liked to joke that they needed to find a therapist to the giant mascot renting their couch.

“I think we’re fine,” Suga hummed, the soft vibrations of it traveling from the spot his throat was resting against the back of Oikawa’s shoulder down his back. “By the way, Mosura is still on our yard.”

“Oh, great,” Oikawa groaned.

Suga pressed a giggly kiss to the side of his neck and withdrew from him, going over to the window. “You didn’t resist the name,” he whispered, leaving Oikawa in the dark if he meant it to be heard.

Oikawa still answered. “It’s pointless to, when we’re not keeping the duck.”

“I’m sure it’ll be gone by the morning,” Suga agreed, his head moving a bit as, Oikawa presumed, his eyes followed the duck move around their yard.

“Hopefully,” Oikawa thought out loud, but didn’t believe Suga honestly meant what he’d said when he said it with a grin so wide he looked borderline deranged. “And if it’s still somehow here in the morning, we’re not naming it.”

Suga glanced at him over his shoulder, stared at him for a beat, his expression unreadable. “Sure.”

The next morning, when Oikawa got up from the bed, the first thing he did was limp with his bad knee to the window to check if they were still plagued by the duck. And he really, _really_ wanted to be surprised when his searching gaze landed on the white feathery blob sheltered under a bush.

“Your new friend is still in our yard,” he said to the sleeping blob in the bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes under his glasses.

“Mosura,” Suga’s mumble carried from under the covers. “Its name is Mosura.”

“It’s not.”

Suga peeked his head out, a sleepy smile on his face as he slowly blinked at Oikawa. “It looks like Mosura.”

“It does not,” Oikawa argued, just for arguing’s sake. He might’ve woken up on the wrong foot that morning and was feeling grumpier than he usually did.

Even Suga made a comment about it, sitting up. “How are your knees?” He hit the matter on the head of the nail on first try, gaze dipping down to Oikawa’s knees and back up to his eyes with concern.

Oikawa felt crappy enough not to downplay how much they were hurting, one a bit achier than the other, the physical labor of the move taking its toll on his body. “Today is going to suck.”

“Where are your pain killers?” Suga asked then, promptly in nurse-mode and already scooting out of the bed to take care of him at the slightest sign that Oikawa wasn’t feeling well.

“In the kitchen,” he answered, moving towards the door of the bedroom. “Don’t worry, I got them,” he assured Suga, “You can stay in bed.”

Suga paused, one foot on the floor, searching look raking over Oikawa. “Are you sure? I don’t mind getting up.”

“I got it,” Oikawa nodded, waving his hand at Suga to go back under the covers as he exited the room.

Of course Suga didn’t listen to him, warm hands on his waist and a loving kiss left on his shoulder when he was downing a glass of water.

“Do you think we should feed Mosura?” he inquired nonchalantly, resting his chin on Oikawa’s chin as he looked out the window like he did, the duck wandering around the yard, the beak buried in the grass as it probably hunted for breakfast.

Oikawa put his free hand on top of Suga’s arm when they slid to wrap around him, silently grateful that Suga allowed him to lean back on him, giving his achy legs a rest.

“We feed it, it’ll never leave,” he spoke softly. He didn’t want the duck to stay, but he also didn’t want to disappoint Suga. He already knew that Suga was going to feed the duck once he left for work, at the latest, and that the duck would be there when he returned home.

Which he found to be true when he did come home later that day, exhausted and feeling down. Not that his day had been miserable, but he was so done with the way his knee gave a twinge with every step he took. He found himself looking forward to the surgery on days like this, hoping that the weeks would go past faster to get it over with and get to the recovery phase with the crutches, the bandage that constrained movement, and the physical therapy that was going to be exhausting in a way that he usually wouldn’t look forward to.

“The duck’s still out there,” he said as a greeting.

“I think he likes the yard,” Suga replied, reaching a hand out towards Oikawa from the couch where he was sat with his laptop, beckoning Oikawa to bent down for a kiss “hello”. “I didn’t even feed it.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to lure it inside,” Oikawa said in between kisses, just one kiss never enough.

“Who said I didn’t?” Suga smirked, his hold on the front of Oikawa’s team jacket pulling him for a third kiss. “Didn’t work. Mosura’s smart.”

Oikawa hummed into the next kiss, thankful that the duck was smart enough not to venture inside the house. “I need a shower,” he announced then, lingering in the kiss to make the feeling last until he could come out of the shower, hopefully feeling marginally better.

“How was your day?” Suga asked after him, his voice muffled by the wall now separating them as Oikawa sat down heavily on the edge at the foot of the bed, getting out of his clothes and ready for a shower after the long day at the gym. He had the option of showering at the locker rooms of the gym, but preferred the shower at home. It might’ve had something to do with the way he could set the temperature of the water. Or, more likely, it had something to do with possibility of sharing the shower with his naked boyfriend.

“Fine,” he replied with a sigh, taking the flimsy knee brace that was supposed to offer support but felt inadequate now. “We made some progress on the game plays.”

“That’s good,” Suga said, accompanied by the sound of… clothes? Rustling? Weird, considering it was coming from the living room, Oikawa thought.

“I still can’t remember all of the team members’ names, though,” he admitted with a frown, thinking back to practice and how he mixed up two of the players’ names. He had done extensive research into the roster when he was preparing for the job interview, and even after he had gotten the job. He should already remember all of them, but to his defense, he was focused on the strategies rather than memorizing faces.

“I’m sure you’ll remember them in no time.”

Oikawa smiled, warmed from the inside by Suga’s unwavering reassurance and belief in him.

“I can give you a pop quiz on them later, if you want.”

“That’s not necessary,” Oikawa laughed, the idea just on the side of ridiculous to warrant the laugh. It was nice and thoughtful of Suga to offer and Oikawa said as much.

“What are you doing?” he asked then, wondering what could force them to have this conversation in separate rooms when they could easily be in the same room, which would make the conversation a bit easier to carry.

“Getting ready.”

Oikawa frowned. “Ready for what?”

He got his answer, kind of, a moment later when Suga appeared at the doorway, just his appearance wiping the frown from Oikawa’s face and replacing it with mirth.

“Why are you wearing that?” he laughed as Suga stepped inside the room, wearing only underwear and the ridiculously hideous, and scary, Totoro hat straight from nightmares.

“What?” Suga asked innocently confused, looking down at himself as he walked towards Oikawa, as if the monstrosity on his head wasn’t his doing. “It’s just underwear.”

“I meant the hat,” Oikawa graciously helped, even though Suga must’ve known what he was talking about.

“The hat?” Suga questioned again, like he was genuinely clueless, his hands landing on Oikawa’s shoulders as he straddled his lap. “There’s a hat on my head?”

Oikawa tapped his finger to the corner of Suga’s lips where a mischievous smirk was breaking through, his poor acting of naivety crumbling.

“Why are you wearing it?” he asked, glad that he couldn’t quite see the Totoro bouncing on Suga’s head from the smallest movement when he focused his gaze to Suga’s eyes when he was sitting so close in his lap. Even better was shifting his gaze to Suga’s lips, considering…

“Because you’re wearing socks,” Suga delivered in deadpan, dropping the act entirely.

Oikawa looked down to his feet, as well as he could see them when Suga wrapped his arms securely around his shoulders, bringing himself that much closer to excellent kissing distance, their lips hovering but an inch from each other.

“If you’re going to wear socks when we have sex, I’m going to wear this hat.”

Oikawa’s eyes made the rounds around the room as he spent a second or two on pondering whether it was worth it to ask out loud when they’d decided they were going to have sex now. And the socks -conversation was just something that they sometimes had whenever Suga reminded him to take his socks off before they got down to business, usually already chuckling at the sight of them.

Once, just to see what would happen, Oikawa had insisted on wearing socks, and only socks, when they had sex. The end result was Suga uncontrollably laughing so much he couldn’t even breath properly, which put their sex on halt for the time it took Oikawa to concede and take the socks off, so they could resume without the fear of Suga dying from laughter. Suga still counted that time their silliest sex yet.

Oikawa starting to think that _this_ time would top that time.

So, the decision to have sex now might’ve been spontaneous, not that Oikawa would complain as he figured to just go with Suga’s whim. He wouldn’t mind having sex with Suga.

Except – the hat.

“That’s not fair,” he objected, his hands finding their usual perch on Suga’s lower back, fingers reaching to cover the top of his bottom. “You don’t have to look at the hat, I do.”

“But I do have to look at the socks, so…” Suga raised his eyebrows meaningfully, expectantly.

Oikawa couldn’t help but chuckle at Suga’s reasoning, for how laughably satisfactory it wasn’t. “Just take the hat off.” He could’ve taken the hat from Suga’s head himself, it was right there for him to grab and chug away never to be found again. Maybe the duck on their yard would be good for something and eat it. But he wanted Suga to be the one to do it.

“Hm?” Suga’s gaze flicked up to meet Oikawa’s eyes, as though he was coming back to the present, remembering himself. “Oh, right.” He then proceeded to pull away from Oikawa’s arms as he stood up, dropped his underwear off and flung them away, before he was back straddling Oikawa again, only naked now.

Oikawa was laughing before Suga’s ass settled in his lap, unrestrained and loud chuckles at his boyfriend’s hilarious thought process, as if he’d meant for Suga to take the underwear off, the goof. He knew that Suga was just being like this on purpose. Making the whole situation even funnier was how Suga was now completely bare, smooth beautiful skin uninterrupted and for Oikawa to admire at, run his hands over to feel, to touch, but the image was ruined by the Totoro hat staring at him murderously from on top of Suga’s head. Like it was judging Oikawa for the thoughts going through his head as his eyes slowly took in the sight of Suga, naked, in touching distance.

He calmed down gradually, his laughter dying and leaving him with a soft smile aimed at Suga, deep in thought as he toed his socks off. He slid his hands up and then down on Suga’s sides, landing them on his hips.

“Wondering why you love me?” Suga asked, smiling wickedly, his fingers twirling a strand of Oikawa’s hair around them.

“No, I know why I love you,” Oikawa whispered, unable to speak louder with the heaviness of his affection. “Just thinking how lucky I am that I get to love you.”

For once, Suga seemed stunned speechless, a rare occurrence.

Oikawa brought his hand up to Suga’s jaw, brushing his thumb over Suga’s lips, thinking of kissing him. Suga pressed his body close, warm skin on warm skin.

A deep inhale from Suga, arms tightening around Oikawa’s shoulders. “Tooru,” he spoke, breathless, “make love to me.”

Oh, Oikawa would want nothing more. He braved himself to flick his gaze up to the hat, to face the judgement there, and down to meet Suga’s. “Take the hat off.”

Suga’s hand was quick, the hat gone and forgotten the instance his lips landed on Oikawa’s, demanding yet gentle at the same time, something Oikawa still, after months of dating, of experiencing Suga’s kisses, was impressed of.

They unhurried. Immersed in each other. Enticed whenever their eyes met on the rare chance they opened them up. Infatuated. Engrossed by the touches, overtaken by the feelings.

Taking measured breaths, a hand on his chest to feel the rapid beat of his heart, the franticness of which was only half caused by the sex, the rest by the emotions and the chemicals that it brought on, Oikawa opened his eyes.

Next to him, Suga shifted and rolled on top of him, hovering over him with the fondest look as his eyes trailed on Oikawa’s face. Unspoken, but devotion loud and clear in the look.

Oikawa brought his hands up Suga’s sides, sliding over his chest and neck to cup his cheeks, combing Suga’s hair behind his ear.

“Thanks for cheering me up.”

He hadn’t even needed to tell Suga that he needed a bit of cheering up after the day at work he’d had. Suga had just known. Had probably planned the nakedness with the Totoro hat from that very morning.

“No problem,” Suga smiled, leaning down for a kiss on Oikawa’s lips, trailing them down his cheek to the corner of his jaw, the soft feeling of them dragging down his neck as he tilted his head to give more space.

Suga had the uncanny ability to make Oikawa feel loved.

Even though they showed their love for each other in different ways, it was undeniable how very much they did love each other. They had learned to find the care and affection in the things they said, in the things they did, in the ways they looked.

“Okay,” Suga stated, to Oikawa’s dismay climbing off him. “Where’d did Totoro end up at? I need to hide it before you have the chance to throw it away.”

“Why do I have the feeling that you’re going to use it again to try and seduce me?” Oikawa raised himself propped on his elbows, the tenderness that lingered in his limbs, the satisfaction of the orgasm making his moves sluggish.

“Until I’m successful,” Suga confirmed with a nod, dusting off the hat he picked up from the floor where it had landed next to the one plant they had found a place for in their home, while all the other plants moved around from day to day.

Oikawa sighed and dropped back down to lay on his back, stretching like a cat after a nap, averting his eyes from Suga to not see where he put the hat away. It was better that he didn’t know. “We’re not having sex with its beady eyes judging me the whole time.”

“It’s not that bad,” Suga spoke calmly, returning to Oikawa’s side, planting a kiss to his cheek as he settled in nuzzling the hollow at his collarbones.

“It’s the stuff from my nightmares.”

Oikawa slid his fingers through Suga’s hair, absorbing the intimacy like it was air he needed to live. Really, these were the moments that he never thought to look forward to growing up, but was now an everyday occurrence that he couldn’t get enough of. The easy intimacy, the shared life and everything that came with it. Be it silly sex or an emotionally charged moment that left him feeling utter happiness. A fight here or there that was resolved when they remembered to just talk. A kiss or a hug to offer comfort. An “I love you” whispered in the dark when they fell asleep. The assurance that they weren’t alone in this, that there was someone to share all of it with.

…

Settling down in the new house was an adjustment period they hadn’t fully anticipated coming.

It was nice to decorate the house to look like a home, to decide where every piece of their furniture fit the best, to debate the necessity of curtains in a room that was still empty (the one upstairs that would become their bedroom once Oikawa’s operations were done with and his knees healed), and to find a place for Kumamon that didn’t commandeer their living room.

Mostly the place _did_ feel like home, but Suga was certain it was thanks to the company – they felt at home with each other.

But sometimes, it was too quiet. Even when the echo of an empty space was removed by hanging up Suga’s photos and bringing in potted plants for color.

The quiet was what they needed to become accustomed to.

…

It was silent when Oikawa returned home from work, and it was a little disorienting, and his first reaction was concern. It was rare back in Tokyo for him to come home to a silent apartment, their friends usually around to eat their food or wear their ass prints onto the couch cushions.

Before the move to Kyoto, their friends had joked that Oikawa and Suga would end up missing them on day one and would be back no more than a week later. Oikawa kind of hated that they had been right, for he did miss his friends. Not… equally… some more than others, but he still missed the general sense of company of all of them.

What he didn’t miss were the jokes that their friends could make five days after their move to Kyoto when he and Suga did return to Tokyo, for one day, for Suga’s exhibition.

“Couldn’t last a whole week without us,” Matsukawa had jested, nudging Oikawa’s side with his elbow. “Knew you’d miss us.”

“We’re literally at the exhibit of Suga’s photos, the only reason that we’re in Tokyo,” Oikawa pointed out, gesturing at the gorgeous scenery of the Shibuya Square that he had no idea how Suga had managed to take. Did Suga have access to one of the rooftops? He had asked but all he got as an answer was a smirk that he ended up kissing from Suga’s lips.

“Just admit that you’ve missed us.”

“Never,” Oikawa huffed, turning his head away. “I don’t lie.”

“That might be true, you don’t lie,” Matsukawa allowed, nodding, “but you still missed us.”

Oikawa’s eyes moved to surreptitiously glance at his smug friend, who suddenly looked less amused.

“We missed you,” Matsukawa admitted softly when he noticed Oikawa looking at him. “It’s only been a week, but it was weird not seeing you at all. It was weird not being able to go to your old apartment when we felt like socializing with friends. Even weirder was seeing someone bring their stuff in there.”

Oikawa placed his hand on Matsukawa’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze to comfort him. “It’s been too quiet in our new place,” he said, smiling somberly. He had missed his friends. Going from enduring the forced-upon company of at least one of them every day to not seeing them at all was a bigger change than he’d expected it to be.

Suga had come over then to steal Oikawa away, postponing the mushiness until the dinner that Daichi (and Iwaizumi, according to the man himself) had planned for that night. He had reserved a room at a restaurant to celebrate Suga’s exhibit, his work and talent, and the fact that Suga and Oikawa were back, even if it was just for the day. It had been loud, it had been warm being surrounded by their “found family” and like they had never even left.

On the train the next day, sat next to Oikawa and looking outside the window at the landscapes they were whizzing by fast, Suga had leaned against his shoulder with a small sigh. “I didn’t realize how much I missed everyone until I saw them again. Until I was able to laugh with them again,” he’d lamented.

Oikawa had taken Suga’s hand into his, kept hidden in the space between their seats, shielded by their legs. “You’ll be able to visit them soon again,” he comforted, brushing his thumb over Suga’s knuckles.

“I know,” Suga’s ever-present soft smile widened briefly, glancing up from their interlaced hands to Oikawa’s eyes. “But I’m worried that the time in between visits is going to grow longer every time. First, it’ll be days, then weeks, then months, then years…”

“I have a feeling that you’d everything in your power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Probably,” Suga hummed. “Wonder how long until Kuroo finds out about the underwear I stole.”

Oikawa chuckled, reminded of sneaking into Kuroo and Tsukki’s apartment because Suga had talked him into leaving a bunch of little trolls (that Oikawa insisted were aliens) in there. Twenty trolls positioned here and there to creepily stare at the couple, from under the sink, on top of the toilet, in the fridge and so on. During this, Suga had discovered Kuroo’s underwear drawer and made use of the opportunity it had presented.

“What are you even going to do with them?”

“Nothing,” Suga shrugged. “Keep them. Send them back to him in mysterious packets one by one.” Another shrug. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Oikawa didn’t doubt that and lifted their hands to his lips, pressing his soft chuckles in a kiss to the back of Suga’s hand. 

“I can’t believe that I’m in a seriously committed relationship with someone who finds pleasure in freaking out his friends.”

Suga snorted at Oikawa’s light-hearted deploring. “You know what you were getting into when you confessed you love me.”

Oikawa pursed his lips. “Maybe so.”

Suga poked at Oikawa’s cheek with fond laughter. The less than private setting of a somewhat crowded train kept their affection on the downlow, but what Oikawa wouldn’t give to kiss the mischief from Suga’s lips.

“Did I tell you yet how proud I am of you?” he settled on saying, sincere and so in love.

“For coming up with excellent ways to freak out our friends?” Suga asked impishly, knowing that wasn’t what Oikawa meant. “Me too.”

“No,” Oikawa laughed, in the know as well. “The exhibit.” The photos had been beautiful, Suga’s vision marvelous and, to Oikawa’s untrained but appreciative of pretty things -eyes, unique. He never forgot how talented photographer his boyfriend was, but at every gallery that he’d seen Suga’s art displayed at, he was in awe all over again.

Suga’s smile softened, even though the impishness lingered at the corner of his lips that Oikawa couldn’t stop staring at. “One day I’m going to hold that exhibit of only photos of you,” he promised, or threatened, who could tell from the tone of his voice.

To this day, Oikawa still didn’t know if Suga had only threatened in jest. However, seeing the evidence of Suga’s exquisite art on the walls of their new home, his gaze wandering as he heated up leftovers for himself, he had to admit that he wouldn’t mind if one day Suga would hold an exhibit with photos only of him. But to make sure that that didn’t happen, he kept the opinion to himself.

His ringing phone pulled his attention back from the admiring and he picked up with, “It’s too quiet and you need to come home posthaste.”

Suga’s laughter was like salve to the part in Oikawa that ached whenever he and Suga were apart. Currently, Suga was visiting Tokyo, but without Oikawa this time, and it had only been three weeks since his last trip there.

“Iwaizumi cut his hair in a mohawk and I’m coming back with an album full of photos of it to put on a slideshow for you.”

Oikawa’s mind drew a blank, shocked by the information and unable to imagine it. “Iwaizumi has a mohawk?”

“Mm-hm,” Suga replied, sounding like he was barely keeping back laughter. “He’s already regretting it.”

“No wonder you sound like you’ve spent the day at Ikea,” Oikawa sighed fondly, as Suga in Ikea translated to someone who loved amusements parks spending the day riding every ride there. “I bet you had a field day taking pictures of him.”

“And he hated it and almost destroyed my camera.”

“Oh-oh,” Oikawa pronounced ominously, casually ladling soup from the pot into a bowl. “What’d you do?”

“Told him I’d pull his spine out through his ass and make a necklace out of it,” Suga stated nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t just threatening someone’s life. “He gently returned the camera back to me without a harm done to anyone.”

“I still have my best friend?” Oikawa checked, taking the first tentative sip of the soup to test whether the temperature would burn his tongue.

“Yes, he is still in one piece,” Suga assured. “Appropriately terrified, but alive. How was work today? How’s your knee? Did you remember to take your pain killers?”

“Work was fine, the team’s really excited about the upcoming game. My knee is fine because I did remember to take the prescribed medicine,” Oikawa listed, stirring the soup. “Thank you for worrying,” he added with a smile.

Suga had expressed his concerns of going away for a few days, leaving Oikawa alone so soon after his knee surgery when he was hoppling around with the crutches. Oikawa had reassured Suga that he was a grown man, which was met with a sarcastic snort that had led to Oikawa wrestling Suga into a bearhug that was just a lead up to aggressive making out and ended up in sex filled with banter.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” Suga reminded him. “Hopefully it won’t be too quiet for you then.”

Suga did bring life into a room by just silently existing, Oikawa’s strong emotions towards him a surround sound music inside his head.

As much as Suga appeared unaffected by the quiet in their new home, it did have an affect on him. He had only noticed it himself when Oikawa had pointed it out to him.

“Are you waiting for something?” Oikawa asked, interrupting Suga from his introspection of black and white photos versus colored photos to be hanged on the walls of the hallway.

Suga turned his head to look at him, confused by the sudden question. “No. Why?”

“That was the fourth time you’ve glanced towards the front door,” Oikawa said, conversational tone but concern in his expression.

“I did?” Suga was sincerely surprised, instinctively glancing at the door again.

Oikawa’s brow was furrowed when Suga looked back to him. “You haven’t noticed?”

“No,” Suga answered slower, hesitant. “Weird,” he admitted.

Oikawa’s hum sounded contemplative.

“Wonder why I keep doing that?” Suga was sure he echoed Oikawa’s thoughts.

It wasn’t only Suga showing signs of odd behavior.

One morning Oikawa woke up with a start, inhaling sharply, but remained otherwise still under the covers keeping him warm. He was listening to the sounds of the house, or the lack of them. It was just quiet, his eyes roaming on the ceiling above their bed as he waited for… _something._

Suga was sleepily blinking at him, curled away from him as usual, habitually rolling away when he was deep asleep. “Everything okay?” he whispered, for Oikawa’s sudden wake up must’ve started him awake too.

“Everything’s fine,” Oikawa whispered back to keep up with the calm atmosphere of the early morning. He glanced at the clock, noting it was still almost two hours until he had to get up to make it on time to morning practice. As a coach, he wanted to set up a good example and showed up extra early to every practice. But there was no need for him to be awake yet.

So, what had woken him up if not the subconscious alarm that he would be late to work?

Suga reached out towards him, opening his arm to beckon Oikawa closer, summoning him for a snuggle. He huddled close, throwing his arm around Suga’s waist to hold him, calming down from the anxious feeling of _something_ simmering under his skin by pressing his ear to Suga’s chest, to match his breathing to Suga’s slow and steady in and out.

When he woke up again, to his alarm clock this time, the same feeling that he had been startled up by was still with him, and it persisted through the day, the sense that something was off accompanying him wherever he went or no matter what he did.

He kept going through his belonging that he was carrying with him, checking and checking again that he hadn’t forgotten anything at home. The bulge of his phone in his pocket, the credit card in it’s usual slot, the jingle of home keys in his bag always there to provide him a brief sensation of relief that he hadn’t left anything behind.

When he was home, he kept flicking through his calendar, notes and anything else that could rid him of the feeling.

But there was nothing that he’d forgotten to do.

Suga brought up the unusual behavior when Oikawa wandered around the house mindlessly, passing by him the third time to open his gym bag and close it a moment later with a sigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, caring, concerned, and a little amused of the way Oikawa seemed to be in a loop.

“Nothing,” Oikawa paused next to him to lean on the table, perching his butt half on it as he crossed his arms in thought. He didn’t even really think about the answer before it fell from his lips. Because nothing should be wrong.

And yet, he felt like it wasn’t the entire truth. _Something_ was, maybe not wrong, but just off. Like a movie director using the dutch tilt in a movie scene when it wasn’t necessary, the image askew for no reason but altering the experience of the watcher to something not being right.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, amending his answer as he gave it more thought, scratching his jaw over the slightest of five o’clock shadows, trying to pinpoint where the feeling was coming from. “Something just feels…” he trailed off, uncertain how to word it.

“Off?” Suga guessed, the feeling not unknown to him either.

“Yes,” Oikawa confirmed. “You feel it too?”

“I feel like something’s missing,” Suga replied, saving his work and closing the laptop. “I can’t put my finger on what is missing, but I definitely feel like something _is_ missing.”

“Yes,” Oikawa agreed. He felt exactly the same and felt validated that he wasn’t the only one. “I have this feeling I forgot something and kept checking my pockets, paranoid I’d left my phone or keys somewhere.”

Suga was nodding his head, standing up to fit himself in between Oikawa’s outstretched legs, hands climbing over Oikawa’s shoulders to play with the hair at his nape that didn’t reach the ponytail. It was a move to comfort not just himself but Oikawa as well.

“Odd that we’re both feeling the same thing,” Oikawa voiced his suspicions, his hands finding their place on Suga’s hips, gently guiding him to shift closer.

“It’s probably because of the quiet.”

“The quiet?” Oikawa questioned, his forefingers tapping on Suga’s hips in thought. “You really think so?”

“It feels unnatural at times how quiet our home is. I’m used to someone just waltzing in with their problems and hunger. What is missing, is our friends. The noise. The interruptions that I didn’t realize I was anticipating happening at any moment until they weren’t happening anymore.”

Oikawa had grown accustomed to the almost constant presence of their friends in their apartment in Tokyo, and now that there were no more disruptions, no matter the time or the day, the absence of their friends wasn’t so dismissible. He’d never thought he’d come to miss the disruptions whenever he just wanted a moment alone with his boyfriend to kiss him silly, but alas, the day had come.

And Suga had lived in the train station of their apartment even longer than he had, motherbirding their friends for years before Oikawa had moved in… Oikawa couldn’t fathom how Suga was dealing with the absence. With the unsettling quiet.

“Do you want to go to Tokyo for quick visit?” Oikawa suggested, his mind already running over the days, trying to remember when the next time was he had a day off or two.

Suga pulled him into a kiss with the hands behind his neck, exuding excitement. “Yes,” he answered, certifiably grateful and pressing it into the kiss that followed. “Maybe you get to meet Daichi and Iwaizumi’s new dog,” he practically sang with joy as he danced away in search of his cell phone. 

“They have a new dog?” Oikawa shouted the question after Suga, his butt firmly planted on the edge of the desk in stupefaction. “I didn’t know they got a new dog. When did this happen?”

All of a sudden, the feeling of something off was overridden now that the reason for it had been solved by the indignation that his best friend had failed to tell him that they adopted a new dog, bringing their total of dogs to two.

“The last time I was in Tokyo I joined them to the kennel,” Suga said as he returned, sans his phone, head swiveling as he looked for it with his eyes. “I’m sure they’ve been able to bring him home with them by now.”

“What does it look like?” Oikawa inquired, greedy for information. “Please don’t tell me they named the new dog with something as idiotic as “Goji”,” he groaned with despair, tormented by his best friend’s poor naming skills. And his obsession on Godzilla.

“They hadn’t made up their mind yet,” Suga said. “Have you seen my phone?”

Oikawa let out a fond chuckle at Suga’s spectacular ability to “lose” his phone. “This one?” He lifted the device next to Suga’s laptop.

“Oh, that’s where it was.” Suga accepted the phone with a peck to Oikawa’s cheek. “How’s your knee?” he asked, as if offhand inquiring about as he focused on the rapid typing on his phone, while Oikawa knew that Suga’s genuine concern was what made him ask.

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t bothering Oikawa at the moment, but that was mostly because of the pain killers he was on. “Why?” he continued, an inkling of Suga’s motives pulling his lips into a smirk.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to come home so we could have sex,” Suga once again delivered without looking up from his phone, as if he was making small-talk about the weather.

With a delighted smirk fully on show, Oikawa rose from his chill lean on the desk and wrapped his arms around Suga’s waist, bringing their bodies flush together.

Suga abandoned his phone, sliding it back on the desk to free his hands. Oikawa knew already that Suga would forget it there again, but Suga’s fingers trailing on the hem of his shirt, slipping just under it, denied him of teasing Suga about his selective absent-mindedness, his airhead only forgetting his phone. Usually on purpose, Oikawa was convinced.

That was left unsaid too, as Suga’s lips were pressing kisses to the side of Oikawa’s neck, teeth nicking on the corner of his jaw. Oikawa had to lean back again, losing balance as he could only properly put his weight on one foot. He brought Suga with him, stumbling a little, causing laughter that interrupted the kisses, Suga’s nose burying into the divot at his collarbone.

“Do you want to take a shower together?”

“Yes, let’s,” Oikawa agreed in a heartbeat, springing up and hopping as fast as he could towards the bathroom, pulling a laughing Suga by his hand after him. For the half a year that they’d dated while they’d lived in the Tokyo apartment, he had been robbed of sharing showers with Suga, the shower in that apartment too small for it, and now, with a bigger bathroom, and a bigger space for the shower, he was making up for the missed opportunities. “I’m so glad that we have a bath big enough for my long legs.”

“Me too,” Suga agreed seriously, already stripping off his shirt, disheveling his outgrown hair. “Otherwise sex in there would be impossible until you’re free of the brace on your knee.”

…

There were times when the silence was non-existent too.

“Why are you dancing while you eat?” Oikawa asked when he walked in on the scene of Suga munching on a cookie, while he was popping his hips from side to side with his steps, bobbing his head to the beat of the upbeat song bouncing off the walls of the kitchen.

“Tastes better,” Suga answered, picking up the tray of cookies from the counter and dancing it over to Oikawa. “Want one?”

Oikawa, endeared to the point of wanting to laugh from the happiness bursting from within, eyed the cookies, then Suga who still hadn’t ceased moving, back to the cookies and once more to Suga. “I don’t know. Are they going to give me the same side-effects?” He quirked his eyebrow to ask, giving Suga onceover.

“Fine, no cookies for you then,” Suga turned away, unbothered by Oikawa’s teasing, dancing since he still hadn’t stopped that.

“Wait, I didn’t say no,” Oikawa protested, limping after twirling Suga.

Suga laughed. “Come and get them then.”

“Stop moving around,” Oikawa said, indignant, and a little jealous that he couldn’t prance around the kitchen like he wanted to because he relied on his crutches to move from point A to point B.

It was as though Suga knew, his caring taking over the teasing when he did stop to gather Oikawa into his arms with ease and gentleness, the cookies left on the counter for now. “I also made milk bread today.”

“Where?” Oikawa looked for it instantly, as much as he could with Suga’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

Suga chuckled, landing a kiss to his cheek. “Sit down, I’ll bring you some.”

Later, having their fill of cookies and rewatching the third Star Wars trilogy after Oikawa won the rock-paper-scissors, they ended their day on the couch snuggled together, warm and comfortable and under the threat of falling asleep there.

On some days they managed to make it to the bed before they fell asleep, but that just meant that they brought the silliness there with them.

Suga’s sigh, a jarring sound following the moans of pleasure, made Oikawa come to a slow stop, looking at Suga with a frown.

“How many times do we have to have the conversation that “don’t stop” doesn’t mean “go faster”?” Suga said unprompted, eyes closed and his forearm coming to rest on his forehead with another sigh.

Oikawa burst into laughter, guffawing loudly into Suga’s neck when his arms couldn’t hold him up anymore from the strain of his borderline violent chuckles.

“Why is sex always ridiculous with you?” he wondered out loud when he was able to prop himself up, gazing wonderingly and with utter fondness at his boyfriend lying under him, legs still wrapped around his waist.

“Why would it not be?” Suga countered, like he was preposterous to him that sex would be anything but ridiculous. “Now, come on, continue.” He nudged Oikawa’s lower back with his heel. “I’m not finishing like this, with you just chilling inside me.”

Oikawa couldn’t fight his wide grin, or how it turned fond when Suga brought his hands to cup his cheeks, lovingly brushing his thumbs under his eyes, looking enamored.

“Please keep going,” Suga whispered, lips touching Oikawa’s with every word as he lowered closer to kiss him. “Pretty please? With a blowjob on top?” He needlessly sweetened the deal, shifting his hips under Oikawa, enticing to pick up with the thrusting.

Oikawa chuckled shortly, focusing his effort not to laugh into the kiss he dove back in for, trying his hardest not to succumb into laughter. It was harder than he thought it would be. As was something else that reminded of its existence when Suga shifted under him again.

It felt like a luxury to have sex at any time of the day and not having to worry that someone would burst into their home to interrupt them before they even really got into the undressing. An everyday occurrence that it had been in Tokyo.

Now they only saw their friends when they video called them, if they weren’t traveling for a quick visit.

If asked, Oikawa would say that he didn’t miss the disruptions, but he did miss their friends and their almost constant company.

On some days it felt like they had traded one luxury for another with the move from Tokyo to Kyoto, forced to leave their friends there, to enjoy the domesticity in privacy.

They both kept in frequent touch with their friends, though.

Suga wasn’t sure who was the more social one, although he was leaning towards himself on that. Oikawa was at work for a third of his day, and while Suga had started to wander around Kyoto to discover its secrets for his photography, he was more at home.

And to fill the silence that bothered him, he tended to call to one of his friends for a chat.

He heard the sound of the lock on their front door but didn’t think much of it as he was attentively listening to Akaashi talk, the way he only did when he was drunk and uninhibited, about the surprise that Bokuto had thrown at him.

“His hair is black. Only black,” he pouted, staring down the glass of wine he had been steadily emptying and then filling. “I almost hit him last night when I woke up when he came home, thinking he was a stranger.”

“I’m having a hard time imagining that,” Suga thought out loud. He propped his feet up on the chair next to the one he was sitting on, resting his chin on his knuckles as he tried to visualize it.

“Just think of him with hair like mine,” Akaashi, probably helpfully in his own opinion, but vaguely in Suga’s opinion, gestured with a sloppy hand at his head.

“No, not that,” Suga shook his head. Bokuto with black hair. Easy to imagine. “You hitting Bokuto? Unthinkable.”

“Well, we can’t all show our affection with punches,” Akaashi deliberated, tipping back the last in his glass, already holding the bottle of wine in his other hand, ready to pour more into the glass.

“I’m so glad I’m not the only Suga does that to,” Oikawa’s voice said from back left.

Suga glanced over his shoulder to smile at him. “Hey, you are home,” he exclaimed, thrilled.

“You seem happy to see me,” Oikawa replied, a bit surprised by the enthusiasm, until he noticed the bottle that Suga must’ve been drinking from next to the laptop.

These video calls with Akaashi had become a weekly thing for Suga, at least they had happened once a week for the two weeks they had lived in Kyoto.

But Oikawa wouldn’t be the smallest bit shocked if they continued to be a thing the two set down a time for. When they lived in Tokyo, Suga got together with Akaashi for a “wine and whine” now and then, at least once a month, where they literally drank wine and talked about whatever they talked about. Oikawa wasn’t in the know of what they discussed and Suga wasn’t a reliable source to find out when he was drunk when the talks happened.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Oikawa stooped to duck his head in front of Suga’s in the web camera to greet Akaashi.

“Hey, Oikawa. Suga might be drunk. I’m not sorry.”

Oikawa snorted, straightening up and giving a searching look to his boyfriend lazily, and dopily, leaning his chin on his hand as he absently spun the bottle around with his other hand.

“Me neither,” he confirmed to Akaashi, running his hand through Suga’s hair, watching how his hair fell down over his forehead before he combed it back behind his ear.

Suga hummed under the gentle, caring touches, smiling up at him. “Keiji- I mean Akaashi,” he quickly corrected, which was unnecessary, for Oikawa had already gotten used to Suga sometimes using his ex-boyfriend’s first name when he was a few sips into the bottle of alcohol, “finished his doctoral dissertation. We’re celebrating.”

“Congratulations, Akaashi,” Oikawa congratulated with sincerity. “Welcome to the club.”

“Thanks.”

Suga giggled, practically forcing Oikawa with it to press a kiss to the top of his head before he picked up his crutches to keep on limping on. He’d originally only come to the kitchen following Suga’s voice to tell him he was home on his way to a shower. The weather was warming to the summer degrees, the volleyball gym warming up with it, even with the state-of-the-art air-conditioning.

“Bokuto hoots in his sleep,” Suga said, somehow, through his mirth, suddenly reminded about it out of the blue, beyond happy to share the information with Oikawa. “Like an owl.”

“I know,” Oikawa smiled. It had been a constant source of teasing to the group of friends for a period, all in good nature, when Bokuto _himself_ told everyone the reason why Akaashi called him an owl as an endearment, after the one and only time Akaashi had let it slip when he was drunk. “I’ll be in the shower,” he said then, shooting a quick congratulations again to Akaashi for his academic achievement.

“Do you want me to join you there?” Suga asked, sounding more innocent than the suggestion warranted.

Oikawa stopped and turned to look at Suga, thinking it over, glancing at the laptop Suga was looking over at him. “Yes, but I don’t want to take you away from your call.” He motioned with his head to the laptop.

“I think we’ve tried our best to make the world a little better enough for now,” Suga assured him with a smile, moving his gaze back to the screen. “I’m going to go have shower sex with Tooru now,” he spoke about their sex life with casualness that Oikawa still sometimes marveled at.

“Call you later,” Suga added on quickly, barely getting a bye in reply from Akaashi before he shut the laptop and climbed over the table.

Oikawa raised his eyebrow, impressed by Suga’s agility while under the influence, wondering if it was just a by-product of the tipsiness.

Later that night, sated and showered, lying in their bed, Suga revealed that it was definitely because of the alcohol that he’d been able to use the table like a stepping stool, and proved as much when he had to get up to switch the lights off and slid from the bed to the floor to crawl on all fours on the floor.

Oikawa chuckled, captivated. “Why are you crawling?”

“It’s faster.”

Frowning, Oikawa turned it over in his head. “How is it faster?” he had to ask when he couldn’t come up with the answer on his own. If only he could read thoughts. He would appear even smarter than he was really, and he already was one of the most intellectual in their group of friends.

“It just is,” Suga insisted, slowly making his way across the room. “I don’t understand why you’re complaining,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “You love the view.”

“I won’t lie,” Oikawa nodded seriously, “I do.” He would’ve averted his eyes if he could’ve, but as it was an impossible feat that even Hercules wouldn’t have been strong enough for, he didn’t even attempt to try and move his magnetized gaze away from Suga’s round behind.

He sighed dreamily. “Could you bring it back here so I can appreciate it more?”

Suga let out a loud laugh. “You want me to crawl back just for you could grope my ass?” he questioned, beyond even his own comprehension, oddly flattered. He blamed the alcohol still lingering in his bloodstream, and the knowledge he had of Oikawa’s touch on any part of his body, how soft yet firm it was and how much he loved it.

“With your permission, of course,” Oikawa confirmed. “But you don’t have to crawl back. I don’t think it’s faster than walking.”

“But I’d have to get up, to stand, to walk, on my legs,” Suga said, flipping the switch and darkening the room, only the twinkle lights Oikawa had decorated the bedframe with softly illuminating his way back. “This is easier,” he concluded, climbing back into the bed and diving finding his way under the covers.

“If you say so,” Oikawa chuckled, pulling him in for a cuddle. He nuzzled the side of Suga’s neck, peppering kisses there.

On another day, Suga woke up to Oikawa’s unusually loud voice, blinking against the bright light beaming in through the window. He propped himself on his elbow, rubbing his eye with the other hand, moving just enough to get out of the sun trying to blind him. It was late enough in the morning that he could technically have lunch, if he were to live by the socially constructed times for meals.

Another yelp had Suga sitting up, in order to stand up, and to investigate. He was used to loud noises in the mornings in Tokyo, often waking up to some of their friends scavenging his fridge for breakfast and the first dose of socializing before work or whatever else they had planned for the day.

He hadn’t realized he’d missed the sounds of life since their move until now, when he heard it again.

That was what brought a soft smile on his face when he stepped out of the bedroom and followed what was distinctly familiar sneaker squeaks and ball bounces to the living room.

_Oh, right,_ he remembered. The volleyball tournament happening in Australia. Of course Oikawa had woken up early to watch the first game.

“Good morning, coach,” he said with fondness, “Is our team winning?” he asked, moving closer to the couch Oikawa was sharing with Kumamon, pulled over by his sheer magnetism. Kumamon’s, not Oikawa’s.

Oikawa cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the sound of Suga’s voice. “So far we’re leading,” he answered, turning back to the game that, based on the points displayed at the top corner, had just begun. “Say hi to Akimiya,” he added right after, gesturing to the open laptop on the coffee table, to the video call.

“Hello, Akimiya-san,” Suga waved friendly at the web camera, smiling kindly, taking a seat further away from Oikawa than he normally would, curling his legs close under him.

Akimiya replied in kind, nodding towards the screen, although his eyes were on, what Suga assumed, whatever device he was using to watch the game.

“Did I wake you up?” Oikawa spared another quick look from the game at Suga, giving him a once over.

“It’s okay,” Suga dismissed the guilt he could detect in Oikawa’s tone. “Did you eat breakfast yet?”

“I had coffee.”

“You and your coffee,” Suga sighed, shaking his head at the lost cause that Oikawa was.

“You can only say that after the second cup of the day and I’ve only had one,” Oikawa shot back, a grin lurking at the corners of his mouth, tempting Suga to slide over the couch cushions to kiss it away. The unfortunate audience, that wasn’t even focusing on them the only thing stopping him from fulfilling his wish of cupping Oikawa’s jaw, maybe put his hand behind Oikawa’s neck to keep him from pulling away from the kiss.

“Not all of us wake up with our sass dialed to the max. Some of us need fuel for that,” Oikawa was continuing, unaware of the thoughts running through Suga’s head, of the willpower he was showing not to act on them. 

A slow smirk grew on Suga’s lips.

“Don’t.” Oikawa held up a hand at him. “I can see it in your eyes that you’re about to say something that I can only handle after a second cup of coffee.”

Suga scrutinized Oikawa and decided to save his teasing after Oikawa’s next cup of coffee. “Fine. Let me get you another cup of coffee then, so I can say what I want to say.” He picked up Oikawa’s empty cup from the coffee table as he got up, heading to the kitchen to fix them something to eat as well. Oikawa might be able to function on nothing but coffee, but Suga needed more sustenance.

The sounds of the game followed him to the kitchen, subdued due to the separating wall, but Oikawa’s, and his assistant coach’s, excitement whenever the national team made a point were just as loud as they had been when Suga woke up.

It made him smile at the tea kettle when he waited for his tea water to boil.

Oikawa had made friends with Akimiya astoundingly fast, but Suga was just glad that he had a new friend. According to Oikawa, they had bonded over their love for sci-fi. Or their shared hate for Shiratorizawa. Or, perhaps, hate was the wrong word there… Resentful admiration. That was the one.

Oikawa often spoke of how he liked that Akimiya was so hard-working, rivaling Oikawa with how above and beyond he did everything, always there to cheer the players when they were exhausted from the practice.

Suga had looked forward to meeting him, and he had to admit that he was especially delighted by the way his hair stuck up on the top, adding to his youthful look.

“Are you actually working right now?” Suga asked, astounded even if he really should’ve expected this, when he delivered the cup of coffee to Oikawa, along with the quick breakfast (meaning early lunch) he’d whipped up.

It was a break between sets, and Oikawa had his notebook open to the admirably cleanly drawn plans, a pen moving fast as he jotted down bullet points as he and Akimiya came up with them.

“Technically I might be on a sick-leave,” Oikawa answered, the scrawl of the pen on paper never ceasing, “But the team has practice today, even with a couple of players in Australia, and I don’t want to be out of the loop.”

“You have assistant coaches for a reason, though, right?” Suga asked, looking at the screen of Oikawa’s laptop to aim his question to Akimiya, who was still steadfastly looking off camera with great concentration.

“Akimiya agreed on putting up a camera in the gym so I can be part of the practice,” Oikawa said.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t just rest after the surgery.”

Oikawa looked up from his notebook, blinking at Suga. “Why would I when there’s work to do?”

Suga’s lips spread into a smile and he shook his head with disbelief. And a little bit because he needed to dispel the urge to kiss Oikawa. His hard-working attitude was admirable, even impressive, but something that Suga knew he needed to keep an eye on.

“I don’t want to disturb you when you’re working, so I’m going to go put some clothes on,” Suga said then, patting Oikawa’s shoulder as he passed by him, the most he dared to touch Oikawa in the view of a third party they weren’t out to.

“Okay,” Oikawa replied in monotone, clearly distracted as the game was resuming on the TV. “Wait –!”

Suga smirked, knowing what was about to follow.

“You aren’t wearing clothes?!”

Suga giggled to himself as he closed the bedroom door, in his t-shirt and boxers.

A short while later, passing Oikawa immersed in the game and the speculation with Akimiya, Suga found his way to finish his own late breakfast. He listened to the conversation in the living room, looking out of the window, thoughts wandering.

If Oikawa was going to work today, he might not need Suga as much at home as he had assumed. And Suga could go and do his own work.

“Um…” Suga deliberated for a second whether he could use… No, it was better to – “Oikawa?”

A heavy pause followed Suga’s call before he got a reply that sounded downright confused, understandably, since it had been a year since the last time Suga had called Tooru _‘Oikawa’._

“Yes?”

“Could you come here for a quick sec?”

Suga heard the scrape of Oikawa’s crutches when he must’ve taken them up to hop from the living room into the kitchen, the commentator of the game droning on about the stats during the break after the second set.

“What’s up?”

“I’m going out to explore a bit. Maybe take _Mosura_ for a walk.” He pointedly played with his camera before he put it away to demonstrate what ‘exploring’ meant.

“Okay,” Oikawa chuckled shortly at ‘walking the duck’. “Are you going to be gone for long?”

“I don’t know yet. But I have my phone with me. Text me if you need something.”

“You never check your phone when you’re out.”

Suga considered Oikawa’s statement, arriving to the same conclusion. “True,” he smiled. “I’ll be back when I’m back.”

“Bye,” Oikawa chuckled, leaned over the counter to give Suga a kiss. “Bring milk bread with you, please.”

“If I remember,” Suga promised. “Don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll try,” Oikawa promised, far less convincingly than Suga would’ve liked, but _hopefully_ Oikawa would at least sit, stay off his leg while working.

When Suga returned home, he hoped to be surprised by finding Oikawa resting, knowing better though, and wasn’t shocked the least when he walked in the bedroom and saw Oikawa doing crunches on the floor, the leg with the cast propped up resting against the edge of the bed.

“You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you,” he stated.

Oikawa stopped, breathless, and twisted on the floor to look at him upside down. “Hey,” he smiled, genuinely happy to see Suga. “Did you bring milk bread?”

“Maybe.” Suga eyed Oikawa, wondering how long he must’ve been working out, vowing to never leave Oikawa unattended again for more than five hours. “You were supposed to rest,” he sighed then, gently dropping his bag with the camera inside on the floor. “This isn’t resting.” He gestured at Oikawa’s lying body on the floor.

“I have to stay in shape to keep up with you,” Oikawa grinned. “And by the by, I’ve gone the whole day without kisses from you –“

“You gave me a kiss before I left –“

“ – And we need to catch up on those.”

“ – And it’s barely five o’clock.”

Oikawa sat up, carefully arranging his leg, and turned to face Suga. “You’re mad.” He deduced Suga’s tone of no-nonsense correctly.

“I’m worried,” Suga corrected, joining Oikawa on the floor. “It’s been three days since the surgery.”

Oikawa reached across the small distance between them, taking Suga’s hand into his, running his thumb over Suga’s knuckles. “I’m fine, Koushi.”

Suga made a face at his name. “Only my mother calls me that.”

Oikawa’s earnest face cracked minutely, quickly suppressed by a small pout of his mouth. “Are you telling me I can’t call you ‘Koushi’?”

“Well, I live to keep you on your toes,” Suga mused mysteriously, a teasing glint in his eyes. He didn’t mind if Oikawa called him by his name, and he knew that Oikawa knew as much.

“Now, come on.” He extended a hand to Oikawa, aiding him up from the floor. “I brought you your precious milk bread. We’re going to take it super easy the rest of the day, even if I have to tie you down for that.”

Oikawa leaned down to meet Suga in the kiss he rose on his tiptoes for. The height difference wasn’t much, not something Suga even paid attention to most of the time.

“Are you trying to threaten me with a good time?” Oikawa quipped, picking up his crutches, following in Suga’s footsteps as he led the way to living room where he had already set up the milk bread, coffee and other snacks on the coffee table, Oikawa’s favorite Star Wars movie one button press away from starting with the iconic fanfare and text scroll.

“Have I told you yet how much I like you?” Oikawa asked, touched, letting out a relieved sigh as he sat down.

“Yes, and the feeling is mutual,” Suga reassured him, sitting next to him, right next to him, pressed to his side, luxuriating in the contact.

Oikawa slouched lower to rest his head on Suga’s shoulder, smiled softly at the feeling of Suga’s lips leaving a kiss to the top of his head, and turned his own to press his lips to Suga’s shoulder.

It was quiet again, peaceful.

Until Suga pressed play and their living room was filled with the legendary score by John Williams, and until Suga’s sneaky hands made it impossible for Oikawa to concentrate on the movie and it was abandoned to the background to instead revel in the feeling of being in each other’s arms.

…

“How’s everything?”

“We’ve adopted a duck.”

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi blink, a blank look on his face. A few seconds passed, and Oikawa re-tied his hair while he waited.

“You what?”

There it was. Honestly, Oikawa thought that Iwaizumi took unnaturally long to ask for the clarification.

“We adopted a duck.”

_“Why?”_

“Because it followed us home and when we thought it’d be gone by the next day, it was still chilling in our yard. So, we thought to just adopt it.”

“It lives outside?”

“I’m not bringing that thing inside!” Oikawa gasped, horrified of just thinking about the mess that would follow, reminded of the messy weeks of when they’d fostered a duck during its recovery in their apartment back in Tokyo.

“And Suga’s okay with that?” Iwaizumi asked, an amused curl on his lips, as if the mere thought that Suga would go with that was hilarious.

“He actually is,” Oikawa nodded, looking past the screen and towards where he heard the front door open and close. “But it has more to do with the duck clearly preferring the outside and refusing to go anywhere close our front door than Suga accommodating to my wishes.”

Iwaizumi chuckled. “I figured.”

Oikawa glanced towards the open door of the room, anticipating Suga’s head to appear any second for a quick hello, the sounds of his live-in boyfriend growing louder.

“Does the duck have a name then?”

“Mosura.”

Iwaizumi’s face made a weird… _thing._ His eyes grew larger, his mouth twitched like it was about to spread to a smile but was suppressed, his jaw flexed, all of this and more in less than a second.

“Mosura? You named the duck Mosura? You willingly call it _Mosura?”_

Suga walked into their temporary bedroom, pulling the hoodie, _Oikawa’s hoodie,_ off, struggling a bit with it.

Oikawa’s eyes followed him cross the room to their wardrobe, forgetting to answer Iwaizumi’s question as he drank in the smooth expanse of Suga’s skin revealed to him when his t-shirt followed the hoodie to the hamper.

“Um,” Iwaizumi’s voice sounded far off, clearing his throat, “does Suga realize that I can see him stripping?”

Oikawa blinked back to the room, flicked his eyes to Iwaizumi’s disturbed expression on the screen of his tablet before they returned to Suga’s disheveled and damp hair with a newly invigorated grin. “Iwaizumi can see you changing your clothes.”

“Tell him to screen record then,” Suga replied absently, running his fingers through his damp hair. “I’m not doing a repeat performance,” he grinned Oikawa’s way.

Oikawa snorted and turned back to the video call, angling the tablet so Suga wouldn’t be visible to Iwaizumi. For everyone’s peace of mind. Suga might not care, but Iwaizumi looked uncomfortable, based on the pinch in his brow and the way he had covered his eyes with a hand. Oikawa forced his eyes to remain on the screen, on his best friend’s face, not to be distracted by Suga’s growing state of undress.

“You’re living with an exhibitionist,” Iwaizumi remarked. 

“Not really,” Oikawa considered, eyes quickly flicking to Suga and back, unable to completely ignore how much he liked what he was seeing. “There is a line that he won’t cross.”

“Oh, and what’s that? No public sex?”

“Hmm,” Oikawa mused, and looked to Suga for a confirmation, finding him dressed in another hoodie, which Oikawa was sure was originally his. “Would you have sex in a public place?”

“Depends on the place,” Suga answered, speaking at the same time with Iwaizumi’s indignant groan that he didn’t ask with the intent to receive an actual answer. “And the time of the year. It gets chilly to have your willy out, or ass, in the winter.”

“He’s right, but this is still way more information that I needed,” Iwaizumi grumbled, shifting and twitching, obviously hoping to remove the last ten seconds from his memory. “You know Suga,” he said in a slightly louder voice to catch Suga’s attention, “when we first met, I didn’t believe Daichi when he told me how shameless you are.”

“I had higher hopes for myself too,” Suga cheekily replied, hopping into loose sweatpants, _Oikawa’s,_ and coming over to the bed to sit next to him. “How are things with you and Daichi?”

“We’re good,” Iwaizumi nodded, smiling a little, which was a lot for Iwaizumi. “He’s at work right now.”

“I know,” Suga nodded. “I need socks.” He got up, leaving Oikawa disappointed that he was still yet to get an “I’m home” -kiss.

“Okay, can you riddle me something?” Oikawa returned to where he and Iwaizumi left off before Suga came in, distracting himself from the lack of sweet kisses.

“Mosura. Where do I know that name? I know I’ve heard it before, somewhere. It’s right on top of my tongue, but I just can’t remember…?” His brow furrowed as he tried to recall where he might’ve heard the name before.

“Suga couldn’t help you?” Iwaizumi asked with unmistakable glee, even if he was trying his best to hold it back. Or, maybe he wasn’t really trying all that hard because now he was definitely smirking.

Oikawa did not like how that looked, or what it meant.

“I’ve been waiting for him to have the epiphany,” Suga answered, rifling through the sock drawer.

“How long have you been waiting?”

Oikawa’s eyebrows drew together with confusion and suspicion.

“Three weeks.”

“You adopted the duck three weeks ago?!” Iwaizumi asked, like he was outraged.

Understandable, if it really had been five weeks since they adopted the duck and if it had been five weeks that Oikawa had neglected to tell his best friend about it.

But they only adopted the duck six days ago. The name had first come up five weeks ago, the day they moved in.

“No, six days,” Oikawa said, his gaze flicking between his screen and Suga behind it searching for socks. “What’s with the name?”

“Please don’t tell him,” Suga pleaded to Iwaizumi.

Oikawa would’ve found it funny how the two were having a conversation even though they couldn’t see each other, but his wariness was clouding the possible enjoyment of it.

“But I want to witness his reaction when he realizes it,” Iwaizumi almost whined.

“I’ll film it,” Suga promised, his smile menacingly impish as his eyes locked with Oikawa’s.

Oikawa would be skeptic of every time that he would see Suga with the camera, from now until the day that he “realized why the name was so damn funny to these two”, afraid that Suga would film the moment for prosperity.

“You better,” Iwaizumi threatened.

That was Oikawa’s cue to end the call. He had learned to recognize the signs of when he was about to be teased by the tack-teamed Suga and Iwaizumi. He made a vow to keep the realization to himself whenever it happened and hung up on Iwaizumi before he had the chance for a rebuttal, promising to call again soon.

Done with the call now, he moved the tablet to the shelfing next to the bed.

“What are you looking for?”

“Socks,” Suga answered.

Oikawa looked at him, at the sock in his hand. “You’re holding a sock.”

“I know,” Suga replied, digging in the drawer. “I’m looking for it’s pair.”

“It’s not there?” Oikawa scooted to the edge of the bed to peer into the drawer. “Maybe the washing machine ate it.”

“Or maybe I’ve accidentally vacuumed it because you still leave socks on the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs to follow to find your way out of the bedroom.”

Oikawa scoffed. “Why would I leave your socks on the floor? I don’t wear them.”

_“This_ is _your_ sock,” Suga held up the sock he was holding and then threw it in Oikawa’s lap.

“Why are you wearing my socks?”

“Because all of mine are in the wash and the ones I was wearing are wet from the downpour outside.”

“Oh,” Oikawa understood now. He lifted his eyes from Suga sat on the floor in the state of frustration over the missing socks to see out the window, the raindrops trailing down the glass. “How was Mosura?”

“Having the time of his life in the little pond that develops in the depression in our yard when it rains,” Suga replied, smiling. “I think he likes living with us.”

“I’m not surprised,” Oikawa hummed, “You keep feeding it. Why would it leave?”

“Because it’s a wild duck.”

“I’m sure he’ll be domesticated in no time and I have to fight you on keeping him outside.”

“I’ll only bring him inside when you want him inside,” Suga assured him, once again failing at convincing Oikawa about it, not that even put that much effort into trying to.

Oikawa was sure that one day he’d return home from work only to find Suga snuggled on their bed with the duck. He balled up the sock that Suga had thrown at him and lobbed it back into the open drawer, making a basket when it bounced in from Suga’s elbow.

He still cheered, appropriately at the score and Suga gave him an amused look over his shoulder. Oikawa smiled winningly back at him and Suga turned away with a roll of his eyes that Oikawa didn’t appreciate.

“You’re surprisingly okay with the duck living in our yard,” Suga said, sounding confused, brow adorably furrowed, but that was probably because of trying to balance on one foot as he put socks that he found two of on.

“Well,” Oikawa made a considering sound, “at least it’s not a penguin.”

Suga was silent and it seemed like they were done with the subject.

Then, “The duck might like a friend.”

“No penguins.”

Suga chuckled softly as he came closer to where Oikawa was still sat on the bed, reluctant to move when he was comfortable, considering his knee in a brace and in a position where it wasn’t bothering him.

“Even if I’d let you name him?” Suga suggested, his voice unfairly sultry (something that Suga had become better at during their time of dating, something that Oikawa hoped Suga wasn’t aware of so he wouldn’t continuously use it against him to get his way), taking a seat next to him.

“Not even then,” Oikawa was adamant. “Hi, by the way.” He grasped at the hem of Suga’s (his) hoodie, tugging a little on it to have Suga scoot closer.

“Hi,” Suga smiled, scooting closer as Oikawa had wanted, and finally, _finally_ leaned in to give him a kiss.

Oikawa had missed Suga’s soft lips on his and he followed them for a second kiss when Suga pulled away. He cupped Suga’s cheeks in his hands to keep him in place for a third kiss hello, and for the fourth one that Suga climbed in his lap for.

The socks on Suga’s feet were too big on him, Oikawa was rejoiced to note, grinning at him and pointing it out by pulling on the looseness of it at Suga’s toes.

Suga kicked him for it, a light jab of his foot to his hand that made them laugh.

“Did you get any good photos?” Oikawa inquired then, running his hand through the slightly damp ends of Suga’s hair.

“I think so. I’ll check tomorrow.” Suga looked towards where he’d left his camera bag by the door of the bedroom. “It’s been a while since I last took photos in rain. It was fun.”

“Show me tomorrow how they came out?” Oikawa asked nicely, tone soft, accommodating Suga with a small move of his head when he reached out to take his glasses of, folding them gently and placing them on the bedside table as he promised to give him a sneak-peek at his photography. “Why’d you take my glasses off?” He was curious, Suga in front of him blurry at the edges.

“It’s easier to make out with you when you’re not wearing them.”

Oikawa didn’t need to clearly see Suga to know that he was smiling in the way he always did when he was about to kiss him silly to the point of dizzy. It was all in his voice, and a beat later in the press of lips against his, in the sweep of tongue and nimble fingers pulling the hair tie holding Oikawa’s small ponytail off.

“Do you think we’ll still do this when we’re thirty years old?”

“What?” Suga pulled back a bit, “Make out?”

“Hmm,” Oikawa nodded, lips ghosting over Suga’s, dying to kiss him again.

“I hope we still do this when we’re fifty,” Suga replied, sounding like he would like nothing more than to be fifty years old and still make out with Oikawa in their bed.

Oikawa would really like that too and he made sure that Suga knew that as he lay down, pulling Suga on top of him.

Oh, how he liked how Suga said his name, a breathless _Tooru_ when he played with the hem of Suga’s shirt. The feel of Suga’s warm palm cradling his jaw.

“How about when we’re eighty?”

“Even better,” Suga smiled against his lips.

The rain picked up outside, the raindrops hitting the window and adding an ambient noise to the sound of the soft smacks of their lips.

“Yep, definitely still doing this when we’re eighty,” Oikawa concluded, rolling them over and kissing Suga’s laughter from his lips. “You sound happy,” he took a break to say, diving to attack Suga’s neck with all the love he had in his heart.

“I am, Tooru.” Suga lifted his head up with a finger under his chin. “I really am.” And he really looked it, Oikawa was glad to note, the look undeniably mirrored on his face too.

Sometimes, on the rare accident of overthinking, Oikawa wondered if it was a smart decision to move to Kyoto. But this, _this,_ convinced him that it was. That the worriment was needless.

“Come back,” Suga’s call and fingertips trailing over his eyebrows, down his nose and under his jaw brought him back to the moment.

Oikawa drew in a breath, let it fill him with contentment. “I’m really happy too,” he said.

“I know.”

Oikawa’s face fell a little. “That’s not the right Star Wars line.”

“I know,” Suga reiterated, but in a different tone, obviously teasing Oikawa because he happened to find it funny to butcher the lines that Oikawa so loved from his favorite movie franchise.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at Suga for it and retaliated by pushing Suga’s (his) hoodie up and attacking his ticklish sides with his fingers, blowing raspberries to Suga’s stomach when he futilely tried to push him away and squirm from under him.

They took a tumble to the floor, but neither minded as they laughed their asses off on the lush carpet Suga had sneakily added to the décor from his run to the Ikea.

“You know that you make me happy, right?” Suga asked when they managed to calm down, his voice brimming with joy. “I’m happy with you, no matter where we are. Anywhere.”

Oikawa closed the gab between them to plant a kiss to Suga’s cheek, lowering the hood that had ended up on Suga’s head down and was covering his cheek, grateful for Suga’s uncanny ability to read him.

“Me too,” he echoed the sentiment, resting his chin on crossed arms over Suga’s chest. “Even when you screw with me by botching Star Wars lines.”

Suga’s following smile was worth the effort of lifting himself up to kiss it. And kiss it Oikawa did until hunger chased them to the kitchen, where the kissing resumed in between the cooking.

Yes, happy. That was a good feeling, and it filled not just them, but their home.

…

“…And Daichi said that my mom was given the honor of dusting the shelf in their apartment where Iwaizumi keeps his Godzilla figurines,” Suga said, giving a play-by-play of the earlier phone call.

Oikawa smiled faintly, reminded of his ex-boyfriend’s obsession of…

He stilled with the blade of the knife in his hand lightly pressed to the spring onion, ready to cut it into little ringlets to add into their meal when he experienced the epiphany.

“Suga.”

“Hm?” Suga looked over from where he was stirring the sauce to be added into the pan.

“Suga.”

“What?”

“Suga.”

“What is it, Tooru?” Suga asked, now finally sufficiently matching Oikawa’s level of urgency.

_“Mosura,”_ he said through gritted teeth.

Suga threw his hand up in a motion to stop, his eyes wide, grinning like he’d just watched one of his favorite horror movies. “Hold that thought!” he said in a rush and sprinted out of the kitchen.

Oikawa huffed, not happy about having to humor Suga by waiting for him to return until he could continue with his justified enraged rant about the name.

He was, however, grateful that Suga only needed a few seconds till he came back with Oikawa’s phone – because of course he’d forgotten where he’d left his own, _again_ – aimed towards Oikawa, obviously filming him on it.

“Okay, go on,” Suga nodded, biting back what was undeniably a delighted grin, failing magnificently.

Oikawa closed his eyes and took a deep breath, acting like he was trying to calm down. But, as he was being filmed, and with the camera already capturing this historic moment, he didn’t feel or see any need to hold back his dramatics, going full method, worthy of an award. “We named our duck after a Godzilla monster?!” he exploded, gesturing wildly with both arms in the air, dangerously waving the knife around. _“You knowingly named our duck after a Godzilla monster?!”_

Suga giggled behind Oikawa’s phone, his hand trembling, likely shaking the video.

“I love you,” Suga smiled at him over the phone, dampening Oikawa’s indignation a smidgen, tilting his head in the way that Oikawa found endlessly adorable.

Oikawa dropped his arms and turned back to the cutting with a huff, attacking the spring onions with frustration that the cutting board frankly didn’t deserve.

“I love you, too,” he admitted after a few seconds of stewing.

Suga’s hand came down lightly to Oikawa’s hip and a chaste kiss was pressed to the back of his neck.

Oikawa instantly forgave Suga, flashing a smile to show his forgiveness when Suga broke away from the brief but not any less sweet, yet fleetingly quick embrace.

Honestly, the name kind of fit their duck. “Although, I think _Radon_ would’ve been a more fitting name to it,” Oikawa thought out loud. “Because of the wings.”

Suga hummed, a contemplative sound as he pulled away to bring down the heat on the stove to keep their dinner from burning, and once the meal was saved from that horrific fate and the world from wasted food, he moved back to Oikawa, to embrace him tightly from behind. “We can name the next one _Radon.”_

“The next one?”

“The next one,” Suga affirmed.

“We’re not getting another duck, Suga.”

“We’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to read more of this OiSuga, remember to subscribe to the series :)
> 
> If you want to say hi, you can find me on [ drabble-droubble ](https://drabble-droubble.tumblr.com)
> 
> (Kudos and comments are always appreciated and will probably make me sob with gratitude)


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